


i mean, i really think you like me

by homotional



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Jaebum is whipped, M/M, i guess, that's the gist, youngjae is a pianist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-05 08:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13383561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homotional/pseuds/homotional
Summary: Jaebum is fucked.Totally and utterly fucked.(Unfortunately not literally. Boy, that really would be some kind of godsend right now, because the amount of thirst he’s suddenly feeling for this boy is honestly pretty overwhelming.)





	i mean, i really think you like me

**Author's Note:**

> i've never really written anything like this before? plus, this is my first got7/2jae fic, so, idk.  
> ANWAYS  
> enjoy !! :)

Jaebum is fucked.

Totally and utterly fucked.

(Unfortunately not literally. Boy, that really would be some kind of godsend right now, because the amount of thirst he’s suddenly feeling for this boy is honestly pretty overwhelming.)

Truthfully, Jaebum was caught off guard this evening when his parents announced that - for the first time at one of these goddamn “parties” - he’d be able to hear something other than the monotone drawl of a literal herd of around one hundred and fifty pensioners and their children  in the room, with the occasional, and unnecessarily loud, laugh or yell from Jackson somewhere, or an exasperated sigh or blunt comment from Jinyoung, usually right beside him (actually, Jaebum could probably count him as a pensioner, because fuck, he certainly acts like one), or maybe even a random chuckle, an uncomfortable, shy remark or something along those lines from Mark, who was normally situated either on the other side of Jaebum or next to Jinyoung (that normally depended on whether Jackson had fucked off to go and terrorise some poor guest yet, because if not, he would be latched onto Jinyoung like a leech, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek every time anyone looked at him as if they even looked as if they were slightly interested in disgustingly cute displays of affection).

And Jaebum had thought that this party would be exactly like that, right up until his parents had announced they’d hired a musician to play. He thought it was weird, if nothing else. And, really, if his parents had hired a musician, he’d have thought it’d be something really boring; he doesn’t know, just maybe something, like, four old men playing sad violin songs all evening.

Fucking _god_ was he wrong.

Jaebum, upon walking into the party, Jinyoung by his side - looking as pristine as always, in a plain, navy suit, topped with a ludicrous dickie bow that he frustratingly manages to pull off (Jaebum doesn’t know how; he’d always thought that, really, dickie bows hadn’t been made to be able to “pull off”, but then again it’s Jinyoung and you could literally dress Jinyoung in a disgusting green trash bag and he’d still look stellar) - had been extraordinarily surprised by the soft piano coming from the middle of the room. One, because, honestly, he really had been expecting sad violins (they really just seemed to suit his parents best, you know?) hiding away in the very corner of the room, and two, because the person actually playing the piano was an angel. Literally.

Now, Jaebum wouldn’t say he’s a complete man-whore, just that he’d gotten around a bit, you know? A slight rascal in his college days, he had had his fair share of one night stands and little flings, normally with people very beautiful - guy or girl - and usually frowned upon by his friends (Jackson and Jinyoung had got together in their third year of university, and despite Jackson having slept around once just as much as Jaebum, in all their mature-couple superiority, had looked down on Jaebum’s actions and pushed him to get into a relationship), but not once had he seen someone so purely stunning, elegant and captivating as the pianist.

Maybe Jaebum’s just saying that because he likes musicians. He doesn’t know. All he really does know is that, wow, this guy was absolutely beautiful. From the way his hands glided gracefully and gently across the ivory keys of the piano, the way his eyes were closed as if he were in pure heaven, obviously most comfortable when in the company of the instrument.

Jaebum was totally ensnared in an entire ocean of this man’s overflowing beauty, completely paralyzed the moment he stepped through the door.

He only noticed when he saw Jinyoung about ten paces in front of him, Jackson, latched onto his boyfriend’s arm like an actual parasite, looking back at him concernedly. Up until he saw what (or who) Jaebum was leering at, which is when his slight frown of worry was immediately replaced by a small smirk. He knew, and Jaebum knew that Jackson Wang would stop at nothing to “set them up”. (That’s what Jackson called it, anyway, but Jaebum knew that the more accurate term was “ruin his life”.)

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Jaebum said as he caught up with Jackson. “Don’t you fucking _dare_.” That stupid, proud smirk was still on Jackson’s face, and Jaebum only knew how little he would be able to fight against Jackson in this situation.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” he said, shaking his head, the annoying grin on his face stretching even wider. Jinyoung, as oblivious as he is (it took him literally a year to see how whipped Jackson was for him, and, not only does Jackson blabber thoughtlessly and idiotically when he’s drunk, but he’s irritatingly obvious when sober, too), just stared at the two confusedly.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but for the love of god, do not do anything completely stupid,” he said. Wise words, Park Jinyoung, wise words. Unfortunately, it’s not like Jackson to really follow what his boyfriend says, especially not in a situation where the possibility is that Im Jaebum could get some kind of romantic relationship.

Instead of agreeing, Jackson simply just grins stupidly, pretty much confirming Jaebum’s current worst fears.

He sighs. “I’m going to find my parents,” Jaebum announces, swiping a glass of some fancy-ass champagne his parents chose, the name of which Jaebum probably can’t pronounce and the price of which he doesn’t even want to _think_ about.

Setting off to find his parents, Jaebum’s eyes frequently lead back to the piano situated in the middle of the room (a somewhat stupid place to put a piano, but, oh well, at least the pianist’s loveliness can be appreciated from every angle this way), the man at the piano still utterly lost in his playing.

Jaebum wonders if he wrote the song himself. It’s a lovely song, he thinks, a soft melody making the atmosphere in the room relaxed yet still sophisticated. He begins to wonder when and where he learnt to play the piano, why he learnt it, why he loves it so much and - oh god, Jaebum’s suddenly wondering what flowers he likes, _if_ he likes flowers, if he owns pets, and all sorts of questions he knows he won’t be able to find the answer to.

And suddenly - he doesn’t know how, he just is - his legs are taking him in the direct direction he was trying desperately to avoid. It’s not even like his brain has a say in this; his body’s just taking him there against his will, as if the pianist were a fucking Im Jaebum magnet or something.

Jaebum waits patiently as the man finishes his song, smiling softly at him as his facial expressions shifted with each note he played. He kind of almost wanted to cry, actually, because if the man wasn’t stunning from the other side of the room, he sure was up close. Like, _damn_.

And you know what? It’s weird, because, to anybody else, the pianist wouldn’t be so spectacular. To everyone else, this guy is cute (at best), small eyes slightly too far apart and, for some reason, his nose, just minimally too big for his face, making him seem slightly “ottery”. It’s probably what makes him seem average to everyone else; Jaebum finds it endearing if nothing else.

An obvious beauty is always what Jaebum’s been particularly attracted to. It’s never been a huge secret, but it was pretty obvious to his friends (and all his peers in university), what with him hooking up with some of the most famously attractive people in his school, namely two of his most attractive ones being Lee Taemin and Kim Jisoo (he also made out with Kim Seokjin a term into his first year, but that doesn’t count, does it?). Jaebum’s not quite sure why, but it’s just something he’d always been attracted to. It’s something _everyone’s_ attracted to. There’s just something about obviously attractive people - _beside_ s the fact that they’re obviously attractive.

But this pianist?

Jaebum is fully aware that his beauty is very subtle. Completely and utterly aware, but his beauty seems to stand out much more to Jaebum, for some reason unknown to him. He practically radiates elegance, coming with it just seeming to be some kind of magnetic charm and allure that Jaebum’s never seen anywhere else in his entire life.

Embarrassingly, Jaebum found that his hands, as if a reflex, started slapping together like a brainless sea lion as the piece came to a soft close, startling the pianist. He immediately stopped clapping, blushing and smiling sheepishly.

“Uh,” Jaebum began, the pianist clearly waiting for him to speak, a slightly confused expression on his face. “You’re, uh, really good,” he said, that stupid blush still staining his cheeks and probably spreading to the entirety of his face by now. The pianist smiles brightly at him, and fucking hell, it was like everything in the world suddenly seemed brighter than it ever had before. “Like, really good. Beautiful, even,” Jaebum adds (he’s not sure why; again, it’s almost automatic - he doesn’t have time to think about it before he says it). “The playing, I mean!” he tries to catch himself, but it’s almost as if the pianist’s smile dips slightly at that, almost like he was disappointed. “Not that you’re not, though! You’re - uh - very nice as well? Ah, fuck - I’m just going to drown myself in the toilets. Uh, thanks, man.”

He begins to turn away and he kind of really wants to punch himself. In university, Jaebum was always far, far smoother than this, so he’s really not quite sure what’s going wrong now for him to be such a mess. He kind of supposes it’s because this pianist is probably far more beautiful and talented than a lot of the people he hooked up with in college (and Jaebum hooked up with the university’s resident sweetheart Park Jimin, who’s probably about as angelic as you can possibly get in this world), and he’s just not used to hitting on these kinds of people. Plus the fact that he was pretty much always drunk at those parties. (And he wasn’t _planning_ on getting drunk tonight, but with the way this evening is currently going, he’s definitely considering it.)

“Thank you.” Jaebum stops almost immediately. It’s a small voice - at the moment, anyway - but it still manages to be one of the most breathtaking sounds Jaebum has ever heard.

It’s stupid, really - it’s just a voice -, but Jaebum honestly feels like he understands what Jinyoung and Jackson were talking about the year before they started dating (and the year they started dating, really, and sometimes even now he still has to suffer through it).

Jinyoung had always described everything Jackson ever did as “something spectacular” or maybe something vaguely along those lines.  Jaebum always sighed exasperatedly as he had to suffer through his best friend basically gushing over “Jackson’s hands”, “Jackson’s jokes”, “Jackson’s voice”, or just Jackson Wang’s something (including, sometimes, his actual wang). And Jaebum knew Jackson was attractive, but the way Jinyoung spoke about him made him seem like some kind of untouchable god.

Both Jackson and Jinyoung had been incredibly invested in their relationship from the very start, even with Jackson previously being somewhat notorious around campus for his “indecent activities”. Jaebum had never understood why they both loved each other so much, especially since they were never be able to actually vocalise just exactly what it was they adore so much about each other (or at least to Jaebum when he asked). 

They just love one another, and that's simply the way it is.

Jaebum’s not saying he’s in love. He’s nowhere near that stage. But, finally, he thinks he’s beginning to understand. He’s beginning to understand why - when some random girl comes up to Jackson and asks for his name or something - Jinyoung will subtly, yet protectively, clutch Jackson's hand from beneath the table or by his side or whatever and Jackson will smile ever so slightly - almost so just Jinyoung can see - and rub comforting circles with his thumb on his boyfriend’s hand, just to reassure him that he is definitely his. He thinks he understands why the couple living across the hallway from Jaebum’s apartment always seem to leave their own home with _his_ hand touching some part of _her_ body whether it be a soft placement of his hand around her shoulders, their fingers intertwined, or his arm around her waist, and why his parents always smile the brightest when they’re happy together.

Suddenly, Jaebum snaps himself out of his thoughts, focusing on the (still so very charming) pianist in front of him.

(He comes to the conclusion that the waiter with the flute of ridiculously expensive champagne earlier must’ve drugged him.)

“Thank you, honestly,” he continues. “I play at functions like this at least twice a week, and hardly anybody seems to enjoy my music.”

Jaebum wants to cry at the way the pianist is grinning at him. It’s just so _beautiful_.

“No problem,” Jaebum says, returning an awkward grin, blushing, and running a hand through his hair (which was once perfect, but is now likely a birds’ nest). “It’s just that-”

And just as Jaebum was going to confess his strange sense of attraction to this stranger - possibly ask for his number, possibly even for a date -, some sort of cry from the background sharply interrupts him, immediately recognising it as his mother.

“Jaebummie!” his mother cries, Jaebum instantly cringing at the childish nickname (that he’s going to pretend that Jackson doesn’t call him ninety percent of the time). The pianist also looks surprised by the sudden interruption but smiles as he realises that he should probably try and look the part of the graceful pianist.

“ _Mom_!” Jaebum manages to squeak as his mother envelops him in a tight embrace, his father standing by proudly and smiling. He looks back at the pianist apologetically, who’s simply just smiling. (Jaebum pretends that he doesn’t notice it looks entirely fake as opposed to before.)

And before Jaebum can even do anything, his mother has let him escape from the hug but is now grabbing his elbow, dragging him away from the piano and towards somewhere else, clearly uncaring of the fact that Jaebum was in the middle of a conversation. His father’s following just beside Jaebum (Jinyoung’s usual spot) while he frantically looks back at the pianist, attempting to shoot him an apologetic smile or at least a look, but suddenly all discussion in the room is joined by a separate melody, and when Jaebum’s eyes finally find the piano, the pianist is back playing his songs, a slightly disappointed frown on his face where a large grin had just been.

(It doesn’t suit him. He really, really just wants to wriggle free of his mother’s grasp - god, he feels just like a little child, being dragged around by his mother all of a sudden - and go back to the pianist, but he’s just started playing his next piece, and his mother really does have an iron grip. And Besides, Jaebum’s sure he’ll manage to catch him sooner or later, right?)

\---

It’s been two hours.

Two whole hours since Jaebum’s mother forcibly lugged him across the room, showing him off like some kind of prized show dog or pretty accessory.

Jaebum knows that, more than anything, his mother means well. She’s just proud of her son, that’s all. It’s not difficult to tell that from the way she speaks about him. “Devilishly handsome” had been something he’s been called a lot the past couple of hours - whether it be by his mother or one of her (awfully judgy and surprisingly frightening) friends - and occasionally getting the odd “he certainly grew up well” comment from one of his father’s associates. “Smart”, is another thing his mother referred to, and “talented” certainly came to light once or twice.

“Single”, however, was by far the most commonly used words his mother had described him as.

Every time she mentioned this, it was in front of one of her friends and their daughters (or possibly even a whole group of them - dear god, that was an absolute nightmare; Jaebum honestly had just felt like a barbie doll for all these women and their daughters, or, in some cases, granddaughters, to gawk at, each and every one of them fussing over how handsome he looked in his perfectly tailored suit and squawking over the fact that he didn’t have a girlfriend, because - wow, ), all of whom were normally very pretty and extraordinarily well put together, but none of which had appeared, to Jaebum, to be even more beautiful than the pianist.

Jaebum’s eyes had strayed way more many times in the general direction of the piano than he’d like to admit. Even when he got a brief break (in which he would have gone to see the pianist had he not been in the middle of another complicated piece) and went to visit Jackson, Jinyoung and Mark, all happily mingling among a sea of businessmen and women, all blissfully parent-less at that moment, Jaebum had found that  he wasn’t exactly listening to what Jackson was going on about (something about how they were going to Jinyoung’s parents’ house soon? He doesn’t know, he really just was not listening), his eyes continuously straying back to the man sat at the piano.

Soon enough, though, his mother had stolen him back and set back to, once again, do her duties in parading him around to what seemed to be everyone in existence.

When Jaebum noticed that the music had stopped, his mother was in the middle of talking to one of her friends (or at least someone who she vaguely knew, Jaebum wasn’t quite sure anymore because if everyone at this party was her “friend” then, by god, his mother would never get lonely), introducing him to a “lovely, pretty girl” called Jieun (read: prospective girlfriend and possible future wife; his mother maybe should have been less obvious, clearly hinting at the fact that she was interested at getting her son interested with the “and look, Jaebum, only a slight bit older than you” comment and also the fact that his mother had stated that she was “unfortunately, yet surprisingly, single, just like my wonderful son here”). And yeah, Jaebum wasn’t going to say that she wasn’t attractive because - _Jesus_ \- she was way more than that. Jaebum would probably even go as far to say that she was gorgeous.

But, even so, Jaebum’s attention was still pretty much completely on the pianist - or, lack thereof. The music had stopped, which nobody except Jaebum had seemed to notice, and the pianist, who had been sat there for literally two and a half hours, was absolutely nowhere to be seen. Or that was visible to Jaebum, really.

Until he _was_ visible to Jaebum, at least, when he saw a flash of the pianist's solitary white suit, an honestly refreshing bright divergence to every other suit in the room which made the scene look more like a funeral than a party.

But the thing is, he was leaving the room. Leaving the _party,_  which lead Jaebum to believe that he was, you know, going home or just going somewhere else, like normal people do after they leave a party. (Jaebum doesn’t blame him. The party is hardly anything interesting or particularly exciting, just a bunch of professionally dressed people milling around in one large room, very occasionally hearing Jackson Wang’s high-pitched laugh or some sort of odd squeal from him from somewhere in the room, a contrast to the dull drone of everyone else’s conversations.)

So engrossed in the whereabouts of the pianist - who, Jaebum realises, he never got the name of, his parents greeting him and stealing him away too quickly for him to even ask -, Jaebum hardly notices as the pretty girl (Jieun?) asks him a question. “So, what do you do?” she seems to ask. Again, Jaebum’s not quite sure; he wasn’t listening.

He’s really just far too invested in whether the pianist is actually leaving or not and - fucking hell, who’s he kidding? Of course he’s leaving; the party is as boring as anything. Jaebum would literally rather sit at home and watch paint dry. Literally. He’s honestly not joking. All this time, he’s barely been able to hang out with his friends - he’s barely spoken to Mark all night, actually - and is just been thrust around by his parents like some kind of doll. He gets it’s because they’re proud, yes, but he also doesn’t want them trying to set him up with various girls he barely knows, especially since he’s been completely distracted by that pianist all night. Not once has he thought that one of these girls was as purely and as effortlessly stunning as this man, even if, by custom, they were more conventionally attractive.

Jaebum finds that, more than anything, he wants to carry on the conversation he and the pianist were having earlier. He wants to carry on the conversation, he wants to find out his name (he bets it’s something really - god, he doesn’t even know. Any name this man has probably fits him perfectly, to be honest), he wants to find out more about him and he wants to see him grin just like he did when he complimented his music a few hours ago.

But he never got his name, or his number, so, really, if Jaebum doesn’t go now, he doesn’t really have any means of contacting him. (He forgets that his parents hired the man.)

“Sorry, I’ve really got to go,” Jaebum says to Jieun, suddenly turning around and leaving her, his mother and her mother.

“Jaebum!” he hears his mother call faintly, but Jaebum doesn’t turn around.

Really, this is more dramatic than it needs to be. It feels more like a romance novel or a film than real life, but Jaebum doesn’t care, because, honestly? He’s living for it. He’s also aware that Jackson will probably get some sort of kick out the story, too, having pinned Jaebum down as a cold, heartless, stoic boy who “don’t need no man” (an actual, direct quote from Jackson Wang) for the past few years.

When Jaebum reaches the lobby, he just realises the almost creepiness of the situation.

He’s been watching this guy all night because he’s interested in him from a conversation they had literally three hours before. He knows when he left and - oh god, he’s going to think Jaebum’s a stalker. He’s going to get scared and creeped out, and Jaebum needs to turn around before he sees him and asks him what he’s doing there, probably grinning that stupidly gorgeous grin of his at him, and - dear _lord_.

There he is.

In all his ottery beauty, there stands the pianist, directly staring at Jaebum, who, not only looks like he’s having a mental breakdown (again), but whose hair looks even more like a birds’ nest than it originally did and who looks much, much worse, more tired and more done with life than he did when they first met.

“It’s you,” the pianist says almost breathlessly, his adorably beautiful grin stretching even wider and wider so that his eyes almost disappear, and if Jaebum wasn’t completely fucked before, than he definitely is now.

Jaebum tries to gain his composure again, trying to smile his usual charming smile (smirk? He doesn’t even _know_ anymore) that won over so many people in college - and, for the record, afterwards as well.

The pianist barely notices and just continues to grin at him. “So, are you heading out?”

Jaebum coughs as he tries to hide the fact that he just tried to seduce this guy with his smile and failed miserably. “Uh, yeah, I think. I’m not quite sure yet.”

( _It depends on whether you’ll leave with me._ )

“Well, the hosts only paid me for three hours, so,” the pianist replies. The air immediately fills with a sense of awkwardness. Jaebum kind of wants to punch himself. He’s normally so smooth - _god_ , this guy is definitely doing something to him. “I’ll be off now, I guess.” Jaebum doesn’t get his hopes up and doesn’t think that the pianist said that with some kind of disappointment, that his grin faltered ever so slightly with Jaebum’s vague answer. “Bye.”

And (with a cute, little wave), he’s off, walking towards the door, his bag, supposedly full of music, in his hand, taking Jaebum’s hopes, dreams and heart with him. (It’s just a bit over-dramatic, but, oh well. Jaebum’s never been melodramatic, so it’s only fair that he’s allowed to be now.)

Jaebum supposes it’s for the best, really.

He doesn’t know why. That’s just what everyone always says when they watch the love of their life walk away from them in films, their heads spinning with various scenarios in which they’d never seen them go away. The protagonist would always smile sadly and turn away, the scene overdubbed with dramatic, sad music and their voice saying something downright depressing, like “before I knew it, I’d lost somebody that hadn’t even been mine” or some shit like that, before they inevitably ran after then - whether it be in a busy airport or a rainy, night-time street - and professed their undying love for them and kissed them way too passionately to be considered realistic. And, there we go, they’d live happily ever after.

Jaebum always hated those films. Jackson made him watch movies like that with him all the time, especially when he was pining after Jinyoung.

Jaebum had always had some kind of problem with those kinds of films. He thought that the protagonist was too needy or too problematic, or that the plot was too complicated or too unrealistic or simply just that the love interest was either a boring, overused cliche or way too obscure. Since the start, Jaebum had vowed not to end up like one of those characters in cheesy romance films, and had always told himself that if the love of his life was walking away from them, just let them cool off for a few hours and then text or call them or visit their apartment, not sprint after them in the pouring rain, force them to turn around and crash their lips against theirs in a frenzied, unspoken declaration of love.

But, fuck it.

Jaebum doesn’t have any means of contacting the pianist after this. And Jaebum’s pretty sure love at first sight simply doesn’t exist, but he’s definitely never felt this way about anyone or any _thing_ before, and, although it’s definitely not love yet, he knows it certainly could become that.

He’s not going to kiss him intensely and proclaim his endless amount of love for the guy. God, he barely knows him. He’s just going to catch up with him and ask him for coffee - that’s all. That’s literally it. He’s not even left the building yet, so Jaebum could just shout and he’d turn around, so, in theory, he wouldn’t have to sprint after him.

Jaebum begins to steadily jog towards him, anyway, gently calling him as he approaches. “Wait!” he says. And, just as he predicted, the guy turns around, confusion spread across his face. (But then he sees Jaebum and grins again, and, oh god, he’s going weak at the knees.)

“What’s up?” the pianist replies, his voice just as Jaebum recalls (as if he hadn’t heard him use it just a minute prior).

“This is kind of sudden, I know, and I totally get if you don’t want to but-” Jaebum inhales heavily, mentally preparing himself (this is the most nerve-wracking thing he’s ever had to do, Jesus Christ) “-I was honestly just wondering if you’d like to go get some coffee with me? Like, now? If you want, I mean.”

“Oh.”

 _And_ there goes Jaebum’s heart. It’s gone, shattered, shredded into trillions and trillions of tiny pieces; just with that one sound. He can’t believe that, in just a few mere seconds, this man - practically a stranger - has managed to break Jaebum’s heart so much. God, this is what he gets for actually going with his heart and not his dick. His dick, it has been proven time and time again, can be trusted. But his heart? Clearly, it can’t.

“Ah. Okay. I mean, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Jaebum smiles sheepishly, although he’s internally sobbing. An embarrassed blush spreads across his cheeks. “Have a good night,” he says, beginning to turn away and back to the party, before he’s suddenly stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“No! I didn’t mean, _oh_ , as in I didn’t want to go on a date with you. I meant o _h_ , as in I was surprised you asked me on a date.” The pianist smiles bashfully, a blush of embarrassment now staining his cheeks. “Wait - this is a date, right?”

Jaebum chuckles. “If you want it to be?” he says, although it comes out more of a question than a statement.

The pianist nods. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

They stand there awkwardly for a few moments, grins both wide on their faces, a blush still painting both their cheeks, before Jaebum breaks the silence with a cough.

“So, shall we leave?” he asks. The pianist laughs gently and nods his head.

And, as they’re leaving (Jaebum - for some unknown reason - not wearing some kind of coat or jacket except his blazer - it’s fucking freezing, and he sincerely regrets leaving his extra layers behind, but for the sake of looking cool in front of his date - his _date,_ fucking _god_ \- he refuses to go back and retrieve it), Jaebum suddenly realises something.

“Hey - I never asked your name.”

The pianist smiles again (he seems to have an endless store of them, somewhere). “Choi Youngjae.”

_Youngjae. Choi Youngjae._

It fits him, with all his ottery splendour, it just does.

“Nice to meet you, Choi Youngjae,” Jaebum repeats. “I’m Im Jaebum.”

**Author's Note:**

> so ?? how was that ?? idk  
> if you ever want to contact me for some reason, here's my  
> [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/iridescentjb/)  
> [tumblr](http://homotion.tumblr.com/)  
> hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
